


Fixing A Hole

by consultingcannibal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingcannibal/pseuds/consultingcannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and the Winchesters find themselves in a rut, searching for clues as to where Gadreel and Metatron could be hiding out. Thankfully, Cas still has some informants up his sleeve, one of which happens to be the lead cherub. Although Cas and Sam don't walk away with much information, Dean walks away with more than he'd bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixing A Hole

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, and probably my last! I'd like to thank Bethany (padadreams.tumblr) for beta-ing and being motivational music accompaniment.  
> I've really wanted to do my own canon-divergence fic for a while but never had the "oomph!" that it took. Anyway, this takes place before/between when Dean gets the Mark of Cain. Enjoy!

Dean had to admit that, yeah, he'd been a little withdrawn since he came back to the bunker.

Although Sam was pissed and Cas was just happy, despite all of Dean's recent changes, to see him again, it was a little difficult. Especially since Cas had decided he was going to occasionally invite his angel buddies over. All for a good cause, of course.

Upon further investigation, Castiel discovered he actually _did_ still have some allies from before. There were angels that still looked up to and praised him for a job well done in the past and trusted that what had happened concerning the fall were, in fact, Metatron's plots.

Cas decided to take this to his advantage, but his key goal was to find Gadreel. Not only would that help the Winchesters, but that would inevitably lead him to Metatron. If there weren't answers that Metatron could offer, that was still a key chance to have a plethora of knowledge under their thumbs. The Men of Letters had far more than Cas had expected as far as knowledge went, so finding a way to reprogram Metatron into a talking Angel-pedia shouldn't be horribly difficult. He'd tackled some pretty big challenges in his time.

Still, time was of the essence, and it was slow-going talking to other angels. They didn't meet at the bunker, of course, so car rides were a little long and awkward. Sam actually chose to sit in the back seat, and Cas wasn't much for light conversation. So Dean found himself at a crossroads. Not literally, of course. The last person he would talk to about this was Crowley.

...Maybe.

 _No._ Dean shook his head as he drove, gripping the wheel a little tighter. He cleared his throat and looked in the rear-view mirror. Sam had fallen asleep, his arms crossed and his legs spread out, a grumpy twinge to his face. Dean switched his view to Cas, who was squinting out the window. Dean readied himself up for some conversation, sitting up a bit.

“So Cas, who's it today? I feel like we're not getting anywhere with foot-soldiers.”

Cas nodded, “You're correct. I've sought after someone a bit more prominent. I'm hoping they'll know something.” Cas absently rubbed his chin in thought. “Ezekiel—the real Ezekiel, might I add—spoke rather highly of them.”

“They got a name?”

“Kerubiel. A very highly-acclaimed cherub.”

Dean cringed. Cherubs weren't exactly his cup of tea, at least not the ones he'd met. Yeah, he'd pass. “He's not gonna hug me, is he?” Dean scowled and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Cas contemplated that for a moment. “I can't say I can give you any promises.”

Dean shuddered and sunk a bit in his seat. _Wonderful._

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was, in fact, greeted with a hug as he entered the Abandoned Warehouse of the Week. It wasn't as unpleasant or forceful as he'd expected, but still a little unwelcome to anyone that wasn't family. Maybe he considered Cas family, but that didn't mean he'd adopted the extended edition. That, and this was a large bearded Italian man that looked like he'd just gotten out of a butcher shop. Not exactly a huge turn-on as far as Dean was concerned. And Sam, for that matter. And Cas. Cas was still rusty with the whole hug thing.

Still, Kerubiel wasn't exactly horrible, but he didn't have as much intel as was hoped. It was basically touch-and-go, some information useful in the sense that a doormat is useful. A little helpful, but not entirely ground-breaking or necessary.

“I am sorry, my friends.” The large, gentle-yet-somewhat-intimidating angel said, his face fitted with slight disdain. “I had long felt that Metatron would retaliate. I knew not what had happened to him. And Gadreel.” He gestured his arms outward. “I know he has been targeting others. I fear I may be on this list.” Kerubiel's arms fell back to his sides in resignation and he turned his saddening gaze to Castiel. “Should I be wiped from this existence, my brother, you will be the first to know.”

Cas looked down and nodded slightly. “Thank you, Kerubiel.” Kerubiel nodded back.

Some time had passed, the four of them doing some catching up, but it didn't last long. As Sam and Cas left, Dean exchanged the necessary info with now-called “Kerri,” and was clasped on the shoulder. Dean looked up in surprise at Kerri's bright expression after some of the heavy talk that was just exchanged.

“I'm happy to see the bond you have with Castiel is stronger than ever. That is very impressive. I'm eternally glad to see we did our work so well.” Kerri said, beaming.

“We?” Dean stopped, dumbfounded. He had been writing a number down but now his train of thought was demolished. “Work? What?” He squinted up at Kerubiel in confusion.

“Ahh, I have cupids that were stationed all over the planet. You two were hit not all that long ago, though the date to get to you felt like an eternity to get to. I had almost forgotten about it! I didn't think it would work! But look, that arrow's flourished beautifully. Have you fornicated yet? Oh, I'm sure you have.” Kerri let out a small laugh and clutched Dean's shoulder tighter and shook it a little. “At least nephilim aren't a worry.”

Dean was dumbfounded, his jaw dropping a little lower the longer he stared at Kerri. “I—you, I'm.” He stopped. “I'm—I'm sorry, you said a cupid covert-op'd me and Cas?”

Kerubiel nodded happily. “I'm not sure what that means, but I'm sure it's the gist. Oh, the night the angels fell! What an eventful night. Especially in that tiny, tiny human bar. So many things flourishing and falling all at once. Quite poetic, if the humans of yester-century could see it now.” He looked off, enamored by his own thoughts. “Oh, but I'm so disappointed. Same little cupid, our Lord bless her dear grace, gave up her bow that night. I suppose she may have considered her duties done then. A shame.”

Dean stared for what felt like about a year at Kerri, not sure what to say. Because, damn. “Right. Yeah. Yeah, a uh, a shame. But I should, uh, I should probably go.” And with great timing, he heard the Impala's honk outside. He finished writing down the necessary numbers and gave them to Kerri, waving him off. The echo of, “Wonderful meeting you, Dean Winchester!” rang throughout the warehouse. Dean didn't say anything back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The car ride back to the bunker was weird. For Dean anyways. Sam and Cas jostled each other back and forth, Dean unresponsive and 100% over-aware of every time Cas's leg got a little too close to his. When asked if he was alright, he'd say, “Just tired,” and continue to “focus” on the road.

He was enough of a person to admit he had a thing for Cas. And that maybe Cas had a thing for him. But he thought it was just a brotherly thing, maybe. But he really couldn't use that, he knew better. He'd never checked Sam out. Hell, he'd never checked Charlie out. Yeah, this was different.

What sort of had him unsure was the fact that he didn't really feel any different. At least, he didn't think so. He tapped his fingers on the wheel in thought. He'd only ever had nightmares about Cas. Cas had been in his dreams, albeit because he put himself there, but he didn't feel horribly out of place to begin with. He laughed and fought, was betrayed and forgiven. But Dean was confused. Why would the bar be the time and place to get them? And how come he didn't feel any different?

Cas was laughing as Dean looked over to observe him, and he realized, he did feel different. He scanned down Cas's face, realizing he knew every part of it better than before. The crinkle of his eyes and nose as he smiled. The way his throat bobbed slightly, and his collar bones, just a little bit of his collar bones...

Dean jumped a little, whispering expletives under his breath. _Right. Driving. Driving is the thing I am doing. Not Cas. Wait, wait no that's. Dammit. Dammit._ He thought to himself and steadied his breath. This was going to snowball, and fast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean decided, as always, that the healthiest thing to do was ignore this...thing. And if Cas wasn't saying anything about it, then he sure as hell wasn't. Plus, with Cas and Sam being closer friends, Dean could slip away every now and then and avoid people (he thought “people,” but he knew he meant Cas.) He would continue with the excuse, “Yeah, just, people, you know. I'm too worried about you guys, don't mind me.” And he would slink off to his room to successfully avoid over-indulging in contact with Cas.

He'd already gotten the guy killed a couple of times, but he didn't want to have another freakout or fallout, so commitment was taken off the menu. The course of every relationship had been torn off-track because of Cas, though. This situation wasn't making anything any easier.

He rubbed his forehead with his left hand and tapped the side of his type-writer with his right. He wanted nothing more than to distract himself after a little over a week of this new-found information, which he was also keeping track of in a journal he was starting himself. Vague, of course. Upon reading it, it probably wouldn't make a lot of sense to a stranger. Still, it was important he kept track. Because _What if Kerri was lying._ He couldn't imagine this being a trap, but he never knew about things anymore.

 

It was later in the evening, around eleven, and right then Dean heard slow, sharp knocks on his door. He tensed up a bit and turned towards it.

“Yeah? This important?” He asked, sounding a bit more irritated than he should have.

There was a long bout of silence where Dean figured he'd probably driven whoever was there away, until he heard a gruff, “It's me, Dean. Can I come in?”

Dean swallowed hard and scratched at the side of the typewriter now, letting out a breath and nodding at the door. “Yeah, Cas. You're good.”

His door opened quietly, Cas shutting it just as silently behind him, multiple large books tucked under one of his arms. “Could I do some reading in here? Sam went to bed, and I've been craving companionship lately. Surprisingly moreso than when I was human.”

Dean nodded after him, Cas passing every chair and bench and making himself perfectly at home in Dean's bed, laying the books out. _Oh yeah, sure, please, get comfortable, can I get you a snack?_ Dean thought to himself, suddenly wondering what the point of all these chairs were if he knew Cas was going to go straight to the bed anyway. Not that...the chairs were for _him_ or anything. He shifted in his own chair, giving Cas another sideways glance, and got back to typing. Which he really wasn't getting much accomplished, but it made him look busy, at least.

The companionable silence, however, didn't last very long. Cas had fidgeted a couple times, but finally he looked bothered enough to start something.

“Dean.” He closed the one book he'd been reading and stared at Dean until he got a response.

Dean tried to look casual as he backed off the old machine, honestly not typing anything more important than _Holy shit he won't leave and I can't concentrate._ But before he could say anything, Cas started again.

“Dean, I need you to answer me honestly. Are you planning on leaving again?”

“Why?” Dean knew why, but he hadn't expected this so early.

“ _Why?_ You've hardly spoken to me, or Sam for that matter. We couldn't help but notice. You're not exactly inconspicuous.”

“No, Cas. I'm not gonna leave, it's not that.”

“Then what? If it's me, Dean, I can leave again. You know I would do that for you.”

 _Well, shit._ This already wasn't going how Dean wanted it to, and he hadn't even said anything. All week. And Cas already thought something like that. Cas was perched on the bed, surrounded by his books, grumpy and attentive, completely serious on his offer. Dean felt himself break a little on the inside. More, anyway.

“Don't you dare. I'm not leaving and you're staying put.” Dean pointed a finger at him and realized he wasn't sure if he wanted to go further into this. But, then again...

“Okay, you know what?” _Fuck it,_ Dean stood up and paced, Cas's eyes following him, the concentrated glare as strong as always. “You know your brother Kerri?”

Cas stared, same expression sticking. “Kerubiel, yes.” Cas sat up a little straighter as though he'd had a realization and continued, “Did he contact us? Is he alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Cas, he's fine, but he told me something in the warehouse, and I didn't want to say anything about it.”

Cas nodded once. “Go on.”

“It, uh...” Dean stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, look. After the angels fell, did you feel different? I mean—” He stopped because, well, obviously. _Human, you idiot, Cas was human._ “Like, when you thought about me or...When you called, did you feel any different?” Dean wasn't sure how much better he could word it.

Cas looked confused to say the least, and he shook his head. “Nothing comes to mind. All other outliers aside, my general feelings towards you remain the same.”

Dean grumbled a little in frustration and then stopped. “Oh, oh, okay, so that reaper you banged, April, right? April!” Dean stopped again to get a quick confirmation from Cas and continued, “How'd you feel about her? Like, I mean, uh...” Dean waved his hands around a bit to get the right words. “After you guys had sex but before you knew the reaper stuff and the torture...” He stopped one last time in order to erase that last thought. “What I'm saying, Cas, would you have done for her what you've done for me?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Of course not. In that moment she was offering comfort and solace while I struggled, and it was an amount of which I couldn't turn down. Were it to happen now, I'm afraid I would, in fact, turn it down.” With that, Cas's gaze descended briefly to the floor. “I can see through the surface of humans again. I would rather fix the pain that's there than try to cover it with a false pleasure.”

Dean huffed and nodded. “No wonder he thought we were already goin' at it.” He muttered under his breath. Cas's brow furrowed and he turned his attention back to Dean.

“What?”

“They shot us, okay!” Dean snapped, throwing his arms out. “Before the angels fell, your brother's army of cupids shot us! Do you feel any different? Because I don't!”

“So, what you're saying...”

“We're supposed to be in love with each other—rainbows, flowers, sex, the whole shebang, and I got nothin'.” Dean rattled off rather quickly, feeling a little light-headed. But hopefully Cas would be able to figure something out.

Instead, Cas looked like he'd relaxed, as though it was soothing and he started nodding, looking away in thought. “If I say something, Dean, can you promise not to get upset.”

Dean swallowed and nodded quickly, impatiently putting his hands on his hips. “Sure. Yeah. Shoot.”

“Aren't we?”

A brief silence filled up the space.

“...Come again?”

“Aren't we, Dean? You've seen this, the influence of my brothers, more often than you think, but you're only thinking of it in terms of Famine's influence.” Cas stood to better confront Dean on this, catching the others' eyes with his. “Did you not think your parents were in love?”

“Well, yeah, but...Jeez, Cas, even in the time and place where they weren't hit, they still got together. Everything was the same.”

“Exactly, Dean. You think that being hit changes everything. But you said you felt the same.” Cas was right in Dean's space now and he wasn't going to back down. Dean could see that, and honestly, he didn't count on it. “Do you really think, had you not been hit, we wouldn't be here? The bonds they build are not built on nothing. They do not suddenly bring life to something, or feed something that isn't there. It's meant to make a flame grow into a raging fire; a pond turn into an ocean.”

The sheer confidence in Cas's voice, the closeness of him—Dean thought he was going to implode, because now was probably the only time he was going to be able to do this. His breathing sped as he searched Cas's face.

He finally closed that space, that unbearable last bit of space, between them. Dean's hands found the sides of Cas's neck, and he lightly massaged his fingers into the hair there. It was tense for a few seconds, Dean not really concentrated on the feel of it rather than finally receiving some sort of response from Cas, until he felt a rush of air against his face and there he was. Cas was kissing him. Dean's mouth was on his buddy Castiel's, and now that he finally had time, he took a moment to revel in it, making him sink into the kiss a bit deeper. Cas slid his hands up over Dean's back and tilted his head slightly.

They kissed a little more before finally Dean pulled away a fraction, his eyelids also following up in suit. His eyes opened to Cas' closed. The tension he'd felt before was gone, and everything was just...Cas.

“Holy crap.” Dean breathed, and he could see the grin Cas had just from looking at his eyes.

“Holy, indeed.” He replied. Cas leaned in again to take Dean's mouth with his, but only this time it didn't last as long, as Dean backed away.

Cas looked less than pleased, to say the least. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's..." Dean paused to just look at Cas. "Actually, that might be it. Nothing's wrong." He slid his hands to Cas's shoulders, and it physically pained him to look down. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't give his all to Cas, and he certainly couldn't take it either. "This isn't a good idea, Cas. It can't be, we—"

"DEAN." The sheer sudden force of Cas's voice startled Dean to no end. "How dare you do this to yourself! And when I'm standing right in front of you!” Cas's hands ventured to Dean's chest, where he proceeded to ball his fists into Dean's shirt. “You are so stubborn, and you harbor and hoard all of this unnecessary hatred towards yourself! How am I supposed to feel about this?”

Dean scowled. He knew it wasn't even an attack; It was help, but the natural defense to kick out the good was involuntary. “Dammit Cas, you shouldn't care!”

“How could you say that? How could you say that to someone you now know truly loves you, who can see it all? How am I supposed to react, knowing I'm trying to save someone who refuses it?” He shook Dean once, as if to get his attention back. “Dean, I'm not going to allow you to go backwards this time. You've confirmed to me that all is not lost. Please. Just this once. Give yourself what you want. You're allowed that.”

Dean's hands had traveled to gripping the sleeves of Cas's coat. He couldn't make Cas understand. He left Cas and Sam for a reason, and after this closeness, the fear was starting to rear its head. It only backed off once he felt Cas's hand, slowly cupping his jaw, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

“Don't question me, Dean.” Cas said firmly, gently stroking down Dean's cheekbone. “I have ventured through Hell for you. I have fallen for you. I have died for you. I have become a God simply to try to make the world a place you could be happier in. Has it always been so difficult to make you see? You were worth it. Every time.”

Dean leaned into the hand and opened his eyes again. “Shut up, Cas.”

“No.” Cas said simply, a small smile playing on his lips. He let Dean go and ventured back over to the bed, stacking the books back up. “I'm going to let you think about this as long as you need, considering it's brand new information. I'm glad you're not leaving us again. I don't expect you to be enamored with me after just piecing things together.”

Dean coughed a little awkwardly and crossed his arms. “Oh yeah, and what? You are?”

Cas gave him a face that he, in every way, had to have gotten from Sam. He put the books back under his arm and stood up straight. “Dean, your selective listening is horrible. I became God for you. I don't think enamored even quite covers it.” He started towards the door. “I'm happy my brother could shed some light for you.”

“So you're not upset we were shot.”

“No. When I said my feeling towards you remained the same, I meant it in the best way possible. I'm not even sure if the effects of the shot even stuck, though, considering all that's happened as of late. And how it affects grace is beyond my knowledge.”

Dean dropped his arms to his sides and gripped loosely at the air, nodding a statement through his head, and then blurting it. “Then let's test it.” Dean offered. “Stay.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Here. My room. Tonight.”

Cas's look became even more skeptical. “You're implying we have sex.”

Dean gave an over-exaggerated shrug. “No, _you_ are. Hell, I could make you stay on the floor. Plus, I don't even know how angel sex works, and I _really_ don't want you to accidentally smite me when things start getting heavy.”

Cas placed his books on a semi-empty shelf. He started to unbutton his shirt slowly and casually, looking at Dean as though he hadn't moved. “What makes you think I could even have intercourse?” He started towards Dean again. He tilted his head in innocent thought.

Dean cleared his throat, because now he could feel it drying out. _Smooth, Winchester._ “Yeah, I don't know if you knew this, but your siblings are complete horndogs, man.”

Cas nodded in agreement, continuing with the buttons on his shirt, until Dean stopped him again with a hand on Cas's wrist. Another patented Sam Face was shot full force right at Dean's face. He'd have to fix that if it was becoming a habit, because ouch. “Really, Dean? _Now?_ ”

“See, I didn't expect you to actually want to stay. I don't want you doing anything you don't want to, or—“

“Dean. I have fallen. And died. Do you really, honestly, think I would not take the chance to do something enjoyable for once.” Cas started pulling his shirt from his pants with his other hand. “Unless this is an insecurity on your behalf, in which case, I know more than enough about you to crush those. This is a space that is very free of judgment on such matters.”

Dean laughed a little nervously as Cas shrugged his coat off and threw it heavily onto the chair in front of Dean's desk. He finally started getting with the program, shaking a bit more because _Shit. Shit, Cas is actually staying. This is happening._ He genuinely didn't expect Cas to be so eager to take up his offer, or be so aggressive on the uptake of sex.

Cas had his shirt off now and threw it to the side of the room. “Really, you think you can just crush every infamous Dean Winchester Insecurity? Cas, you're gonna have to prove you even know one before you start getting cocky.” Dean gave a sideways smile and studied Cas's face for any bad signs.

“Well, for one,” Cas started, micro-focusing on the buckle on his own pants as he walked back into Dean's space, “Only until recently had I started pondering the fact that you've always wondered what it would be like giving, rather than receiving, the Reverse Cowgirl.” And only Cas could say it with a low, casual tone, as though it was something Dean spouted to everyone.

Dean sputtered and raised a finger as to make a point. “Okay, y'know what, that was, like, one time, alright, and I was—I was really drunk, and I'm pretty sure the chick I was with did _not_ start out as a chick, but damn if she wasn't still hot but really, there's no way it couldn't bring up a few questions, and—” Cas placed a finger over Dean's mouth.

“Are you done?”

Dean nodded.

“Good.”

Cas replaced his finger with his mouth. It wasn't until Dean felt a light tugging at the hem of his shirt did he realize he wasn't even fully with the program. He pulled away and nodded, tugging the shirt off over his head and with very little gasped, “Bed” to Cas, and they were back together.

They toppled onto Dean's bed, Dean going back-first with a sad attempt to scramble his way up the mattress, his hands all over Cas, rubbing something unfamiliar below the ribs. Once his head finally hit his pillow, he took a much needed break for air. All the while Cas was moving onto Dean's neck, kissing and sucking at it.

Dean continued to feel the foreign bumps, also trying to wrestle his legs out from under Cas to accommodate a person between them. “What, aah,” Dean began, finally spreading his legs and jerking his hips up, giving some much-needed friction to Little Dean. “What, what is this?”

Cas elevated his torso somewhat and covered Dean's hand with his own. “Markings. A tattoo. I needed protection; coverage. Something that wouldn't wash off or fade. It was the best solution.”

“And the hottest.” Dean said somewhat to himself, watching as Cas slowly started making his way down Dean's body in earnest, taking his hand off of Dean's and working on the button and fly of his jeans.

“Cas, if you're about to blow me, please, _please_ tell me you don't have a gag reflex because I _will_ start fucking your mouth.” Dean warned, a weakness to his voice that only comes when one is horny and getting hard ridiculously fast.

“Not if I hold you down.” Cas replied simply, finally completely undoing the button and zipper of Dean's jeans.

Dean laughed nervously as Cas tugged his pants and underwear down. Dean had himself hoisted up by his own arms to watch Cas. He felt his smile fade to a light “oh” expression when his pants were hugging his thighs, Cas's left hand with a vice-like grip on his hip, the other gripping his cock.

Cas stroked up the length once. “At that gas station,” he began, leaning his head down to suck at the tip, pulling away to finish, “My manager assumed we were sleeping together. I didn't tell her otherwise.” He flicked his eyes up at Dean, who in turn stared back. “She gave me some useful advice.”

“Yeah?” Was really all Dean could muster, and he was more than embarrassed, because were this some slammin' porn star between his legs, he'd have some sort of smart-ass response. Luckily for him, he knew the last thing he needed do was “impress” Cas. Hell, Cas may even be the one to impress _him_.

“I apologize. This is my first time doing this.” Cas didn't falter, and slowly sucked Dean down, flattening his tongue and bobbing his head. Dean's arms gave out and he collapsed back on the bed, digging his heels into the mattress. Cas wouldn't allow him to buck up.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean bit his knuckles and groaned around them. He squeezed his eyes shut. “This isn't gonna last very—” Dean suddenly jolted at a foreign feeling. “Whoa, whoa, really Cas?”

Cas lifted his mouth from Dean's dick messily. “What?” He was still doing _the thing_.

Dean mustered up the strength to lift himself back up onto his elbows. “Butt stuff? So soon?”

Cas narrowed his eyes, but persisted on doing _the thing_ , which was massaging Dean's ring of muscle with his middle finger. “Do you not want to?”

“Well, I do, but.”

“But?”

Dean snorted and Cas rolled his eyes. “No, really though, the last time I took anything in the back door it was from a chick. I don't know what I did, like if I offended her, or,” he waved his hand vaguely, “But I said to be gentle, and then I proceeded to get the most intense plowing of my life. I mean, it was hot and in the end I was totally cool with it, but can you imagine an eight-hour car ride after that?”

Cas winced in sympathy. “I'm confident that I know what you like, Dean. There are books about it, you know.” He slowly moved back up Dean's body.

“Good. Well. Except for the book part.” He said, patting the side of Cas's face once it was in line with his. “Now move please, I gotta get something.”

Cas sat up and Dean shucked his pants off the rest of the way, and he rolled off of the bed ungracefully. Cas finally pushed his own pants off the rest of the way, having forgotten about them during his minstrations. He looked somewhat awkward sitting comfortably naked on Dean's bed. “I like this bed,” Cas remarked, pushing his hand into it a couple of times. “It fits to the form.”

Dean was rummaging through some drawers. “No, it _remembers._ ” Dean corrected. Almost immediately after, he grumbled, “Finally!” He hopped back onto the bed, pushing Cas back against it, coaxing Cas's lips apart with his. He pulled away with a sly smile and waved a little bottle next to his head, raising his eyebrows a few times. “Found it!”

Cas stared at the bottle. “What is it?”

“Seriously, Cas?” Dean popped the bottle's cap open. “It's lube, and like, the best I got. So if we're doin' this, we're doin' it right.” He grabbed one of Cas's hands with no resistance met, easing some of the goo onto the previously-massaging finger. He then rolled off of Cas and flopped onto his back, nestling into his bed and spreading his legs accordingly. Dean stroked himself a few times over and nodded, satisfied. “Alright Cas, ready when you are.”

Cas raised his eyebrows and proceeded, hovering over Dean. He lowered his hand back to its destination, slowly pushing into Dean. Dean closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head. “I'm impressed, Dean.” Cas started moving the finger in and out of Dean's body at a moderate pace.

Dean grunted. “Why?”

“You're very open about this.” He added another finger.

Dean smirked. He was just going to take that as humorous bedroom lingo that Cas wasn't aware of. Dirty talk may need some work. “Yeah, well,” Dean relaxed a little more and thrust his ass lightly down onto Cas's fingers. “Somewhere between the making out and the, uh, you having your fingers in my ass,” Dean swallowed thickly and tried to keep his composure, “I figured I could be as open as I damn well pleased.” Dean tensed a little once the third finger was added and he took a deep breath.

Cas eased his fingers out, leaving Dean with that weird empty feeling. But he had been absently stroking his cock occasionally, so his body was completely lax. There had been a comfortable silence that lingered between them since Dean had last spoken. He heard the cap of the lube snap back open and he opened his eyes, just in time to see Cas lining himself up. Cas flicked his eyes to Dean's and Dean nodded at him.

The press and stretch of Cas's cock made Dean tense again, but Cas ran a hand down his chest in attempt to soothe him. Slowly, Cas bottomed out and leaned his body down, draping himself over Dean. He pressed his forehead against Dean's and breathed softly.

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's torso, and without opening his eyes, he sloppily took Cas's lips with his. He locked his legs behind Cas's and attempted moving his hips.

Cas took the prompt, kissing back and responding with a gradual in-and-out rhythm with his own hips.

Dean slowly opened his eyes to see glassy blue ones watching him. He searched them, and realized he hated what he saw. He hated it because he loved it. He hated it because he saw himself, but it was the way he could never actually see himself when he looked in a mirror, or the reflection of a knife. He saw someone that knew everything, and still adored him in the most profound way.

Dean forced his eyes closed again, trying to focus on the feel of Cas moving in him rather than having an emotional breakdown. But as the lump in his throat grew, Cas started thrusting harder and faster. Cas tugged on Dean's hips in order to get just the right angle, and there it was. Dean let out a shout and felt tears stinging his eyes. His mouth fell open, Cas hitting his prostate spot-on now, and Dean was gasping. Between the crying and the wracking pleasure, he decided to just fall into whichever was more prominent at the time, which happened to be both.

Dean felt Cas's hand start to pull at his cock and he ran a hand up to tug at Cas's hair, crushing their mouths together. He could feel the moans Cas was making on his own mouth, which finally did it. The heat in his belly released full-force, and his mouth was gaping as he came.

Cas ran a hand up and down Dean's thigh and gripped it as he stilled, a choked-out “Dean” escaping his mouth as he did so.

They breathed heavily into each others' mouths for a minute or two. Dean finally had the courage to open his eyes again. He was greeted with the same eyes, but this time he didn't back down. He tried to find the words to say, but he was drawing a blank, for now.

Cas hesitantly pulled out and shifted himself over, laying on his stomach, partially on Dean and partially not. He hooked a leg between Dean's and hugged onto his chest. Dean was about to speak but before he could, Cas stopped him.

“Don't try to push me away, now. I don't care how much you try to convince yourself you hate cuddling.”

Dean lazily shook his head. “Whatever, whatever...I was just gonna...grab a blanket or something.”

“I'm sure.”

Dean felt vaguely around Cas's arm and his flank, not quite sure how to wrap his head around the fact that this was Cas. This was all Cas. But despite all of the good, he couldn't help but feel dreary.

“I wish this...” He wiped his eyes from earlier. “I wish this magically fixed everything.”

Cas kissed Dean's shoulder. “I didn't expect it to.” He ran his hand up Dean's chest to his face, and dragged his thumb across Dean's lower lip. “You should get some sleep, Dean Winchester.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean had to admit, Cas was the most prominent alarm clock anyone could ask for. He was totally fine with the idea of waking up, maybe cuddling a little and starting the slow grind into morning sex. But that was the absolute last thing on Cas's list of Things To Do this morning.

Instead, Dean found his morning wood being slowly taken into his friend's body, and he let out a long moan, lazily thrusting up. Dean hadn't even opened his eyes yet, but he felt for Cas's legs, hands slowly migrating up to his hips and staying there.

Cas was fully seated in Dean's lap now, and he smiled as he started rocking his hips. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean's eyes slowly opened to take the sight in. He was breathless and more than pissed that he'd waited a whole week to say something to Cas about his damn feelings. No, hell, more like over two years. “Oh,” He shook his head and grinned, “You have no idea, Cas, but next time, give a guy a little warning.” Dean started thrusting his hips up with more vigor.

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean in a ridiculously chaste way, making eye contact and keeping it. “I'm afraid that won't be happening. Your need to sleep is going to really get in the way.” Cas joked.

Dean huffed a small laugh, but just couldn't get over the way Cas was looking at him: Complete adoration that he was going to accept, just for now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They took their time having sex this round, and after a couple flips and position switches, both came to a finish around the same time as well. Dean laid on his back, his chest heaving, finally wide awake. He gave Cas a few pats on the leg and said, “Alright, up'n'attem! Gonna get a lot more shit done today now that I don't have to avoid you guys. Good deal.” He stretched and sat up, wincing a little. Cas stayed on his back with his arms neatly folded over his chest.

“I'm sure Sam will be grateful. He told me he doesn't like how you skirt around feelings. This won't fix everything, but it's a step in the right direction, in my opinion.”

Dean turned to look at Cas. Cas just shrugged at him. “Yeah, well. Even if he isn't, he'll get over it.” Dean threw his legs over the side of his bed and stretched his arms over his head, making a long groaning noise, letting his arms fall ungracefully to his sides. “Want me t'get you some coffee? I'm gonna have some.”

Cas smirked. “If it wouldn't be too much of a hassle.”

Dean decided clothes were still out of the question and slipped a robe and slippers on, making his way to the bunker's kitchen. He found Sam sitting at the table with a near-empty bowl of cereal, chewing slowly as he read through an old newspaper.

“Mornin', Sammy!” Dean chimed, heading straight over to the coffee pot.

Dean didn't have to directly face Sam to know the face he was receiving, the clank of Sam's spoon dropping into his bowl a sign enough. “Really, Dean? Really? After a whole week of you being a complete weird-ass robot, I just got a chipper ' _Hey, Sammy!_ '” Sam was tense and silent for a moment. “Did you...Did you go out last night, Dean?” The accusing tone to Sam's voice was horribly thick. “Because I know your faces, and that's the face you make when you get laid. And if that's really what has to happen to get you out of a mood...”

Dean realized he was grinning while pouring coffee, which he would admit was generally not an amusing task. He replaced the grin with a forced straight face, wandering over to the table with two cups of coffee. He pulled a chair out, setting one of the cups to the side and sipping from his own, taking a seat. He winced a little again. “No, I can assure you I did not go out last night.”

Sam wasn't entirely convinced, and he crossed his arms and sat back, eying Dean carefully. “So you got someone to come _here_?”

Dean shook his head and took another sip.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Then who...”

“Good morning, Sam.”

Sam immediately turned his head, Cas wandering into the kitchen as well, pulling another chair out and picking up the cup that Dean had set to the side. What was more off-putting than that, however, was under Cas's regular trench was a faded Dekalb shirt and some boxer briefs.

Not to mention Cas had the worst case of bedhead Sam had ever seen.

“Oh...my God.” Sam started, gaping at Cas. “Oh my God!” He said quicker, his eyes switching from Dean to Cas. His hands slapped onto the table, one shooting up and presenting Dean as though he couldn't fathom that his brother was sitting there. “Really, Cas!? _That's_ your version of,” and he lowered his voice for this, “ _Talking to Dean!?_ ”

“Oh, it turns out that's not what the problem was. He's not leaving.” Cas said, raising his eyebrows and turning to Dean and said, as though conspiring, “I thought you'd have said something before I came in.”

Dean gritted his teeth and muttered, “Really, Mr. Multidimensional Wavelength of Celestial Intent!? I just got up!” Cas gave him a nod-and-shrug response.

“Okay, so” Sam stared dead-eyed at the table and rubbed at his temples. “I'm really curious how this came up. You can explain to me, BUT,” and Sam raised a finger to stop Dean, who he noticed was opening his mouth to begin, “Start from the beginning, DO NOT give me any in-depth unnecessary details about the...consummation, and absolutely NO sex puns.”

 

 

* * *

 

  

 

Dean explained it from start to finish, leaving out the gritty details (or as he'd like to call “The Sex,”) and waited for a response. When he didn't receive one, he tapped impatiently on the table. “Well?”

Sam continued to say nothing for a while, his brow knitted together while staring at the table in thought. “Don't you think it seems kinda...odd?” Sam asked, finally looking up at Dean.

“Wow Sam, don't be too specific. I don't know if you remember who we are, but everything I've told you is pretty damn mundane.”

Sam made a face and looked to Cas. “You know what I'm saying, right?”

Cas hadn't said anything the entire time, either, but now spoke up. “Now that I've heard the entirety of it, yes. I don't doubt we suspect the same thing.”

Sam sighed, getting ready to speak his thoughts, “Metatron?”

Cas nodded.

Dean sat up. “Whoa whoa whoa, no. Alright, how'd he come up?”

“So you'd said Kerubiel—Kerri—had said he'd ' _nearly forgotten?_ ' What if that's because you guys weren't hit at the right time?”

Dean pursed his lips. “I'm listening.”

“Alright, what if you guys were scheduled to get hit later, but the date was close enough that Metatron could change it and use you guys to his advantage. Cas, what did you say the ingredients for the spell to make the angels fall were again?”

Cas moved his mug around in his hands a bit before answering as if thinking something through as well. “Killing a nephilim, a cupid's bow, and the grace of an angel.”

“Exactly, but what if that's not the order they go in? I'm willing to bet there's more specifics to it, too.”

Dean shook his head, trying to understand. “What, we lookin' at symbolism here?”

Sam tapped on the table. “Yeah, exactly. Like what if it couldn't just be any grace to accomplish this? _We_ met Metatron first Dean; There's no way he didn't know you had the blood of the Righteous Man. And I'd think that the hooking up of the Righteous Man and a rebellious angel would be a pretty damn big deal.”

“So,” Dean started, “You're saying, if it was in order...”

“...You'd need cupid's bow to signify the possibility of loving connections,” Cas finished the thought, “The grace of an angel truly in love with a human, with the nephilim being a symbol of the truth behind an angel's ability to do so.”

Dean sat forward and rested his arms on the kitchen table. “So you think Metatron fudged the paperwork so he could use Cas for all of it, from the beginning.” Dean's eyes widened. He quickly turned and gave Cas a back-handed tap on the arm. “I bet that other couple was just to distract us, the rat bastard!”

Cas placed his hands in his lap and nodded towards Dean. “You're probably right. I think we can also assume Metatron more than likely figured our bonds would break once I became human. He wanted me to have children. I don't think he realized I would immediately contact either of you.” Cas gave a small lopsided smile. “He didn't seem to realize where my true allegiances lie. You two are always underestimated, and I'm honestly thankful for that.”

Sam huffed a small laugh at Cas. “Yeah, well, it sucks Metatron got the upper-hand on you, Cas. But hell, maybe we're exactly what you need to get back at the dick.”

Cas agreed silently over his coffee.

 

  

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day went surprisingly well, what with Dean helping out on a few studies for cases accordingly (and with little complaint.) Albeit he did just stare at Cas every now and then, but the fact that he made steaks for dinner all but made up for it. This went on into the evening, the three of them sitting back and watching Game of Thrones for a good hour.

Dean and Cas retired to bed first.

Sam got up early the next morning, or rather, earlier than usual. He hadn't gone on a run for quite some time, and although the bunker was big, it didn't quite have that fresh-air-feel he wanted. They lived alongside a seldom-traveled road, anyway.

Before he could leave, however, he heard the front door of the bunker slam shut. No footsteps followed, and the stairs weren't exactly quiet.

He didn't have a bad feeling in his gut, but he had a good suspicion of what it was. Following that suspicion, he headed to Dean's room and raised a hesitant fist to the door. He knocked and waited.

There was some rustling and a groan. “What is it, it's like the freakin' buttcrack of dawn, damn, let a guy sleep.” He heard grumbled, probably half into a pillow.

“When do you think you guys'll be up?”

Silence.

“Dunno', Cas ain't here.” Dean finally replied.

Sam froze. “Right. Okay, yeah, sorry. I'll let you sleep.”

He heard a distant garbled, “Damn straight.”

Sam made his way back to the front of the bunker, up the stairs and out of the front door, not getting much running in once he was out. He stopped, more or less as soon as he got outside, after spotting a familiar figure.

“Whoa, Cas, I thought you might've...” Sam hesitated. Now probably wasn't the time to think of what _could_ happen, but nowadays he wasn't much of an optimist. He jogged up next to him and looked down at Cas's face.

It was tilted up towards the sky, his eyes closed. He looked entirely at peace. “I apologize. I didn't mean to worry you.” Cas inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, staring up at the clear, freshly sun-risen sky. He proceeded to place his hands into his trench's pockets. And thankfully to Sam, Cas was in his usual clothing. “This grace may only have the crippled structures of wings, but it's nice to be out of the confines of the bunker. Stretching is nice in itself.”

Sam didn't like that he knew the feeling, but he nodded in understanding. “Yeah. I get that.”

They stood in the quiet for a while, the air chilly, forcing Sam to shiver. He shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Listen, Cas.” He sniffled and somewhat hunched his shoulders, the cold morning starting to get to him. “Thank you.”

Cas squinted his eyes at the sky, then at Sam. “For what?”

“I don't know, man, everything.”

Cas shook his head. “I don't quite follow.”

“Well, I mean Dean, for one. This—what you guys have now—it's going to help him so much. He just,” Sam shrugged and squinted up at the sky, “He praises this idea of family and...and I don't know, _me_. But he can't be around me forever. I'm not gonna stay forever, you know? And you're not exactly permanent either, nothing is, but Dean, he...” Sam took a breath. “He needs his _own_ family. And you,” He smiled down at Cas. “Man, you're a damn anchor. We need you. You're what's gonna make Dean get past all of these things that he clings on to.”

Cas continued to stare at the sky. “We tend to let go of each other when it most counts.” He remarked with an even tone.

“Well, look, now—” Sam pulled a hand out of it's pocket and gestured outwards. “Now at least you guys _know_ what you're letting go of, because seriously, when has it ever even occurred to you guys at the same time that something was there?”

Cas tilted his head and scanned the distance as though he was adding up numbers. “Hmm...Never, I believe.” He nodded as though satisfied with his answer. “Otherwise sex probably would have happened a lot sooner.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Dammit, Cas.”

Cas gave an innocent little smile. “I shouldn't be holding you up like this. You deserve your stretching, as well.”

Sam was confused for a second, until he looked down and remembered why he was out there in the first place. “Oh shit, right.” He gave a quick roll of his shoulders and regarded Cas. “Hey, just remember what I said. Because I mean it. And when you wake Dean up today, tell him you told me he cries during sex or something.”

Cas smiled. “Of course.” And with that, Sam was off.

Cas watched as Sam got further away, a small smile still playing on his lips.

Maybe making his own heaven wouldn't be as difficult as he'd thought.


End file.
